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Gradgrind’s eldest daughter。 Loo； Mr James Harthouse。 Mr
Harthouse has joined your father’s muster…roll。 If he is not Tom
Gradgrind’s colleague before long； I believe we shall at least hear
of him in connection with one of our neighbouring towns。 You
observe； Mr Harthouse； that my wife is my junior。 I don’t know
what she saw in me to marry me； but she saw something in me； I
suppose； or she wouldn’t have married me。 She has lots of
expensive knowledge； sir； political and otherwise。 If you want to
cram for anything； I should be troubled to recommend you to a
better adviser than Loo Bounderby。 “ To a more agreeable
adviser； or one from whom he would be more likely to learn； Mr
Harthouse could never be recommended。
“Come！” said his host。 “If you’re in the complimentary line；
you’ll get on here； for you’ll meet with no competition。 I have
never been in the way of learning compliments myself； and I don’t
profess to understand the art of paying ’em。 In fact； despise ’em。
But； your bringing…up was different from mine； mine was a real
thing； by George！ You’re a gentleman； and I don’t pretend to be
one。 I am Josiah Bounderby of Coketown； and that’s enough for
me。 However； though I am not influenced by manners and station；
Loo Bounderby may be。 She hadn’t my advantages—
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disadvantages you would call ’em； but I call ’em advantages—so
you’ll not waste your power； I dare say。”
“Mr Bounderby；” said Jem； turning with a smile to Louisa； “is a
noble animal in a comparatively natural state； quite free from the
harness in which a conventional hack like myself works。”
“You respect Mr Bounderby very much；” she quietly returned。
“It is natural that you should。”
He was disgracefully thrown out； for a gentleman who had seen
so much of the world； and thought； “Now； how am I to take this？”
“You are going to devote yourself； as I gather from what Mr
Bounderby has said； to the service of your country。 You have
made up your mind；” said Louisa； still standing before him where
she had first stopped—in all the singular contrariety of her self…
possession； and her being obviously very ill at ease—”to show the
nation the way out of all its difficulties。”
“Mrs Bounderby；” he returned； laughing； “upon my honour； no。
I will make no such pretence to you。 I have seen a little； here and
there； up and down； I have found it all to be very worthless； as
everybody has； and as some confess they have； and some do not；
and I am going in for your respected father’s opinions—really
because I have no choice of opinions； and may as well back them
as anything else。”
“Have you none of your own？” asked Louisa。
“I have not so much as the slightest predilection left。 I assure
you I attach not the least importance to any opinions。 The result of
the varieties of boredom I have undergone； is a conviction （unless
conviction is too industrious a word for the lazy sentiment I
entertain on the subject）； that any set of ideas will do just as much
good as any other set； and just as much harm as any other set。
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There’s an English family with a charming Italian motto。 What will
be； will be。 It’s the only truth going！”
This vicious assumption of honesty in dishonesty—a vice so
dangerous； so deadly； and so common—seemed； he observed； a
little to impress her in his favour。 He followed up the advantage；
by saying in his pleasantest manner： a manner to which she might
attach as much or as little meaning as she pleased： “The side that
can prove anything in a line of units； tens； hundreds； and
thousands； Mrs Bounderby； seems to me to afford the most fun
and to give a man the best chance。 I am quite as much attached to
it as if I believed it。 I am quite ready to go in for it； to the same
extent as if I believed it。 And what more could I possibly do； if I did
believe it！”
“You’re a singular politician；” said Louisa。
“Pardon me； I have not even that merit。 We are the largest
party in the state； I assure you； Mrs Bounderby； if we all fell out of
our adopted ranks and were reviewed together。”
Mr Bounderby； who had been in danger of bursting in silence；
interposed here with a project for postponing the family dinner till
half…past six； and taking Mr James Harthouse in the meantime on
a round of visits to the voting and interesting notabilities of
Coketown and its vicinity。 The round of visits was made； and Mr
James Harthouse； with a discreet use of his blue coaching； came
off triumphantly； though with a considerable accession of
boredom。
In the evening； he found the dinner…table laid for four； but they
sat down only three。 It was an appropriate occasion for Mr
Bounderby to discuss the flavour of the hap’orth of stewed eels he
had purchased in the streets at eight years old； and also of the
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inferior water； specially used for laying the dust； with which he
had washed down that repast。 He likewise entertained his guest；
over the soup and fish； with the calculation that he （Bounderby）
had eaten in his youth at least three horses under the guise of
polonies and saveloys。 These recitals； Jem； in a languid manner；
received with “charming！” every now and then； and they probably
would have decided him to “go in” for Jerusalem again tomorrow
morning； had he been less curious respecting Louisa。
“Is there nothing；” he thought； glancing at her as she sat at the
head of the table； where her youthful figure； small and slight； but
very graceful； looked as pretty as it looked misplaced； “is there
nothing that will move that face？”
Yes！ By Jupiter； there was something； and here it was； in an
unexpected shape！ Tom appeared。 She changed as the door
opened； and broke into a beaming smile。
A beautiful smile。 Mr James Harthouse might not have thought
so much of it； but that he had wondered so long at her impassive
face。 She put out her hand—a pretty little soft hand； and her
fingers closed upon her brother’s； as if she would have carried
them to her lips。
“Ay； ay？” thought the visitor。 “This whelp is the only creature
she cares for。 So； so！”
The whelp was presented； and took his chair。 The appellation
was not flattering； but not unmerited。
“When I was your age； young Tom；” said Bounderby； “I was
punctual； or I got no dinner！”
“When you were my age；” returned Tom； “you hadn’t a wrong
balance to get right； and hadn’t to dress afterwards。”
“Never mind that now；” said Bounderby。
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“Well； then；” grumbled Tom。 “Don’t begin with me。”
“Mrs Bounderby；” said Harthouse； perfectly hearing this
understrain as it went on； “your brother’s face is quite familiar to
me。 Can I have seen him abroad？ Or at some public school
perhaps？”
“No；” she returned； quite interested； “he has never been abroad
yet； and was educated here； at home。 Tom； love； I am telling Mr
Harthouse that he never saw you abroad。”
“No such luck； sir；” said Tom。
There was littl